Even When The Music's Gone
by Laura Schiller
Summary: Missing scene from "Fusion". It's hard to believe Captain Archer would just let T'Pol's abuser go ... unless T'Pol had already handled the situation in her own way.


Even When The Music's Gone

By Laura Schiller

Based on: _Star Trek: Enterprise_

Copyright: Paramount

"_Just close your eyes, the sun is going down.  
>You'll be all right, no one can hurt you now.<br>Come morning light, you and I'll be safe  
>and sound … "<br>_- Taylor Swift, "Safe and Sound"

Captain Jonathan Archer hissed through his teeth as he approached T'Pol's biobed. This was the second time this month he had seen her in Sickbay, and if possible, she looked even worse. Her olive skin was almost yellow, shiny with sweat; there were shadows under her eyes; her tawny hair was plastered to her forehead. Unless it was the plum-colored shirt underneath the blanket that made her look so vulnerable. He'd never seen her out of uniform before.

Worst of all was the obvious fear in her eyes. He'd often wished to see a crack or two in her Vulcan façade, but never like this.

"My God," he breathed, "What happened?"

"Do not overreact, Captain. I will be fine." T'Pol's voice was cracked and hoarse, as if she'd been screaming.

"She's suffered some neural damage," said Phlox, peering through the curtains, his usual smile absent. "She'll have to stay in Sickbay for a few days, but rest assured, Captain, she will recover. Shall I tell him what happened, Subcommander?" he added kindly.

"No. Excuse us, Doctor."

"Of course." Phlox withdrew, pulling the curtains closed behind him.

Jon sat down next to the bed and waited, tongue-tied, trying desperately not to show his rage at whatever, or whoever had made her look like this. Her ancient philosophers had a point. Sometimes emotion was patently unhelpful.

"It was Tolaris," she finally said.

"What did he do?"

"He initiated a mind-meld. It is an ancient practice among my people, long illegal … an intimate sharing of minds via touch-telepathy." She held up her right hand, saw it tremble, and quickly drew it back inside the blanket. "I was … curious … " She cut herself off and closed her eyes, as if in pain.

_Go on, _Jon wanted to say, but bit his tongue.

"I must admit, it was … exciting at first," she murmured, in a voice barely more than a whisper. "He led me through my memories … a jazz club on Earth, it was beautiful … but it became too much. When I told him to stop … he refused."

Jon's hands clasped over his knee became white-knuckled. His ears were roaring. He had learned in his exobiology course that Vulcans bled green; if he had that son of a bitch in front of him, he'd be severely tempted to test that information.

He also made a note to himself: never let T'Pol hear jazz.

"And then?" he asked.

"I broke the meld. He left."

Jon realized he'd been holding his breath only at the end of a deep exhale.

"I'll contact the _Vahklas._"

"Captain - "

"Tell them to throw him into whatever they use for a brig and make sure it's locked tight." He jumped to his feet and straightened his jacket with a yank, so angry he could feel the well-worn fabric trying to choke him. He was just about to pull the curtains back when a sharp command from the bed froze him in his tracks.

"_Stop."_

He stopped. He had no choice.

"Do not pursue this, Captain. Let the _Vahklas _go. Please."

"T'Pol, he _assaulted _you!" He grimaced at the sound of his own raised voice, which judging by a chittering sound in the background, had startled at least one of Phlox's creatures. He took another deep breath and forced himself to continue calmly: "You can't expect me to just let this go. I thought you knew humans – knew _me _better by now."

"Nevertheless." T'Pol, as hurt as she was, still maintained an edge of steel to her face and voice that would have made his old Academy instructors proud.

"Is it because you agreed at first? Because that doesn't make it any less a crime. Stop means stop, every ethical being should know that."

"I know."

"Please tell me you're not somehow protecting him." His stomach turned at the idea. He'd heard of abuse victims who loved their abusers and refused to testify against them, but T'Pol?

"Absolutely not."

"Then for God's sake, why?"

T'Pol blinked up at him with bloodshot hazel eyes. Her blood _was_ green; he could see that now. How small she looked underneath that khaki blanket, and yet how immovable.

"Captain, you must understand … this is a deeply private subject among my people. If Dr. Phlox had not called you here, if I were in full control of my faculties, I would have succeeded in keeping this to myself. I wish I had." Her winged eyebrows narrowed. "I cannot endure a public trial. The scrutiny, the debates, the questions … I will not."

"That doesn't sound very logical to me."

T'Pol flushed. Jon could have bitten his own tongue off as soon as he'd said it. Poking holes into her philosophy might be one of his and Trip's favorite pastimes, but this was the worst possible time for it. He thought of Trip's humiliation at the hands of that thoughtless Xyrillian engineer. Trip had been forced to reveal his secret too - in front of Klingons, no less, who had laughed uproariously at his baby bump. Jon hadn't quite forgiven himself for letting that happen; the least he could do was show a little more consideration for T'Pol.

It was just maddening to see her like this while her attacker strolled freely around the _Enterprise_.

"Humans claim to be compassionate, and yet you waged three global wars in the past two centuries alone," she retorted acidly. "It would be a rare species which never failed to live up to its ideals. We have not yet encountered one."

If he hadn't known already that T'Pol was brain-damaged, this would prove it, he couldn't help but notice. His science officer as he knew her would never even admit to anything like failure on her people's part.

"You're right. I'm sorry." He held up his hands in surrender as he sat back down. "I shouldn't have said that. You have every right to … to privacy, of course. Only … "

"Yes?"

There was no way to put this delicately. "What if we let him go, and he does this to someone else?"

He half expected her to say something perplexingly cold, like _that is none of our concern_, as she had when they'd encountered the Axonar ship with its upside-down corpses at the beginning of their mission. Instead, what she said was even more perplexing.

"I doubt he will. I have already dealt with the situation."

"You – what?"

She raised an eyebrow in her own version of a shrug. "I asked Dr. Phlox to put a call through to the _Vahklas. _We told them we were concerned about an Earth virus that may have infected Captain Tavin's people, and recommended a thorough physical. There are several phrases in Vulcan for that. The one I used doubles as … a euphemism of sorts."

He decided not to ask what that meant. "And you think they'll find something?"

"I am unfamiliar with the practice of mind-melding, but it stands to reason that if the … conflict injured me, it must have injured Tolaris as well. Vulcan neurology is highly advanced. They will find evidence."

She spoke as calmly as if reciting her latest report. Trip would no doubt roll his eyes and say something uncomplimentary in his Southern drawl. Looking closely, however, Jon could see the fire beginning to smolder in her eyes. If he had revengeful thoughts about Tolaris, he had no doubt they were nothing compared to hers.

"Remind me never to make an enemy of you, Subcommander."

"The _v'tosh-katur_ may still decide to leave him unharmed," she pointed out, eyes widening, as if the idea had only just occurred to her.

"They won't. There are good people on that ship."

"In your judgment. You still do not seem to realize how dangerous their lifestyle can be." She shifted uneasily on her pillow, her composure faltering, in a way that made Jon's throat seize up in quite an unprofessional manner.

"Every tree's got a few bad apples, T'Pol. Don't dismiss a whole group because of one person's actions. Did you know that one of their engineers was disowned by his father years ago for his beliefs? Admiral Forrest asked me to pass on a message. The father was dying, and asked to speak to his son one last time. The son found it almost impossible to forgive him, but forgive he did. They show their anger, but their compassion too. Tolaris doesn't represent them all."

"I tire of this debate, Captain. If one day we find the _Vahklas_ motionless in space, its bulkheads streaked with blood, I reserve the right to say I told you so."

Jon recoiled in his chair. On one level, this was fascinating. On the other, he knew that given the choice, she would never let him hear her speak with such brutal honesty again. She must be waiting every second for him to leave, before she incriminated herself any further in her own eyes. And once she healed, no doubt she would be cooler and more formal to him than ever.

"I should go, shouldn't I? You need your rest."

"I cannot," she burst out. "My dreams – "

_Oh, God. _Nightmares too. If they were anything like his dreams after abandoning the Valakians to their disease, no wonder she looked like that. Was nothing to be spared her?

"Phlox can give you something for that."

"I must meditate."

"No open flames in Sickbay." She met his eyes. "Oh, all right. I'll bring a candle." At least there was one tiny thing he could do to help.

"Thank you, Captain."

"Rest up, Subcommander. That's an order." He tried to say this brusquely, the way he would to Trip or Malcolm if they pulled a muscle at the gym, but was conscious of his failure. Before she could reply, he ducked through the curtains.

He strode past Phlox and his menagerie without a word, headed for his ready-room, jabbed the comm panel, and put in a private call to Captain Tavin's office.

"What can I do for you, Captain?" the _v'tosh-katur _asked warmly.

"Oh, it's about this … virus our doctor mentioned. Just checking if your people are all okay. Especially Mr. Tolaris – my science officer was concerned about him."

Tavin's round face sagged as he sighed. "Your tact is commendable, Jonathan, but we both know what happened, don't we? He's done it before. He tried to convince us that _he _was the victim, but the scans were quite conclusive."

"T'Pol surmised as much." At least he was admitting it.

"On behalf of my crew, I am truly sorry. We honestly believed Tolaris had seen the error of his ways, but clearly he has not."

"If you don't mind my asking … what will you do with him?" Much as he liked Tavin, the man's gentleness was getting on his nerves. What if T'Pol was right in her fears that these people's belief system was warped, that they wouldn't punish one of their own even for such a crime?

"There are substances which numb a Vulcan's telepathic powers. Also surgical procedures, if necessary. As for the rest … we shall make sure never to leave him alone with any of our guests in the future."

Jon bit back a curse. It was not what he would have wanted – but then, what he wanted for Tolaris was a long and painful death. There were distinct downsides to civilization, he thought, smiling grimly at the screen.

"I'll trust you to keep a close eye on him."

"If he should escape, of course, we will notify you at once. But I consider that unlikely." Tavin's smile was a mirror of Jon's own. "Dr. T'Lin was most displeased by what she found in the scans. She extends her deepest sympathies to Subcommander T'Pol."

Jon bowed his head in grateful acknowledgement.

"That's all I wanted to know. Thank you, Captain Tavin."

"Travel safely, Captain Archer. Peace and long life."

"Same to you."

Tavin shaped his vivid features into such perfect Vulcan serenity that Jon nearly laughed out loud, and raised his olive-skinned hand in a split-fingered salute. Jon tried to return it, gave up, grimaced, and settled for a wave instead.

_Vulcans. Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em. _Would he never get done tripping over his own preconceptions when it came to these people? Only a month ago, he could have sent T'Pol away on Sopek's ship and relieved himself of a dozen headaches into the bargain. But he hadn't. _She's still __my__ science officer, _he'd said, lifting her up after the firefight, carrying her to Sickbay.

She would have to leave _Enterprise _someday … but, thank God, not quite yet.


End file.
